"Stay still, please."

StG44 obliged the technician's orders, holding her arm still as the machine went to work. "Aren't I supposed to be asleep for this?"

"If you want to be," the woman shrugged. She was the same one who had been with Schuhart during the incident with RPD. The doctor had called her Sasha, StG remembered, but the tech introduced herself as Technician Macek. "It cuts down on spent time by a few minutes if we skip shutdown and bootup protocols. Not usually important, but with so many damage repair orders waiting…"

The repair machine was busy cutting up StG's arm, where a Sangvis plasma round had seared the synthetic skin there and nicked the endoskeleton. It was the only damage StG had sustained in the short battle with Sangvis on the mountainside, and when she returned she was automatically put on the repair list by Kerr's general order. It had taken her over a day to actually enter the repair bay, however, since it had been, and still was full of much more heavily damaged dolls. StG looked to the repair station next to her, where KS-23 laid surrounded by an array of automated repair tools.

"That one's going to take a while," Macek commented. "Can't do any repairs until the armor plating's been removed, and that takes a few hours at least."

"I see."

"Time flies when you're having fun, though…"

StG did not miss Macek's air of resignation. She had become rather skilled at interpreting tones of voice during her time with Chrysanthemum – mostly during their times out at the café, or whenever they had run a joint mission with a different unit (Support Squad Pavel's harried leader was especially derisive, she had noticed), or even when she was just talking to Type 56-1 and K11. Z-62 and CBJ-MS were always more aloof, but joined in conversations every once in a while.

The repair bay was a long line of ten high-tech doll maintenance stations arrayed along one wall, a wide pathway separating it from the other side, where computers and workstations were available for use by the technicians on duty. Normally only a couple techs were ever on at one time, but it seemed like Kerr had put at least five on duty to handle the large number of dolls who needed repairs, with Macek as the senior technician present.

It was lucky that the bay was part of the IOP wing of the base rather than the Doll Services levels, since that section had been absolutely devastated during the Sangvis raid and was undergoing heavy repairs. It was mostly quiet in the repair bay except for technicians muttering between themselves and the low whirr of repair machines going about their business.

Macek suddenly looked up from the terminal she'd been inspecting as the door to the repair bay opened and a doll entered, adjusting the dark blue kepi atop her blonde head as she approached. It was MP-448 in all her officious glory, dressed in the same faux-military style of uniform that StG herself wore.

"Hey there, Skyph," the technician waved. If MP-448 was peeved by Macek using her nickname, she betrayed no hint of such annoyance in her reply.

"Technician Macek. How go the repairs?"

"Oh, fine." Macek swiveled around on her stool to fully face the doll. "The last of the heavily damaged dolls are being worked on right now, so I'm starting to take in the minor cases." StG turned to watch the machine peeling away the seared synthetic flesh, setting it aside and starting to go to work on the endoskeleton.

MP-448 crossed her arms underneath the jacket she had over her shoulders. "That's good. What about the quarantined dolls?"

Several dolls had been quarantined after the raid – ones who had been in direct contact with Gestalt and were still alive, like M99. StG had heard that the dolls Gestalt had outright killed Kerr had ordered incinerated. Macek shrugged. "No signs of abnormality. Schuhart's overseeing the tests personally, I expect the first batch'll be cleared by noon."

"I'll speak to him about it, then."

"He is the expert, yes." Macek scratched at a spot on her face aimlessly. "Need anything?"

"A recharge." MP-448's face broke in a thin smile. "Kerr's got us working near constantly this next week."

"Well, take a few of these MRE packs," Macek replied, already reaching for a drawer on the supply cabinet that was part of StG44's repair station. MP-448 held up a hand.

"No, thank you. I'm stopping by the mess hall later, I can pick something up then. Let me know about anything important here."

"Sure thing." Macek turned back to her terminal as soon as MP-448 started for the door. StG sensed that her endoskeleton had been repaired and looked to confirm the feeling. Every doll could just feel things about their body, even when the actual sensory devices embedded in their skin and skeleton were switched off, as they were now. StG supposed that humans might call it uncanny, but it was second nature to her. Helpful in combat, too.

There was a commotion at the door, and StG quickly turned her head to see MP-448 struggling to squeeze by K11 and Type 56-1 as the two assault rifle dolls pushed through the entrance in tandem. At a muffled word, K11 stepped back, and MP-448 hurried off down the hallway.

"It's her fault she tried to get by," the blue-haired doll was saying to CBJ-MS as they walked towards StG. The team leader rolled her eyes.

"Sure, I'll take your word for it. Hej, Sturmgewehr.."

"Hello," StG replied, looking on in wonder as the other four dolls of Chrysanthemum stopped in front of her repair station. Type 56-1 grinned as wide as K11, and even Z-62 managed to show her teeth. "I didn't expect to see you all here."

"Well, we've got a lunch break and I figured it'd be worth the time to see you," CBJ-MS replied.

"And let you know what you're missing out on," Type 56-1 bemoaned. "Kerr has all the available dolls helping to clean up debris and corpses after the raid, but since most of the work there is with power loaders and exoskeletons, the rest of us are stuck helping with the perimeter patrols. And CZ-75 is running them. That girl makes me so uncomfortable…"

"Yeah yeah, deal with it. You want another raid?" K11 elbowed Type 56-1.

"You two, quit it," CBJ-MS ordered. "Miss Macek, good to see you again."

"The same to you," the technician replied. "It's good to see that you didn't take any damage."

"Hm, well, there's a reason I'm this highly rated, I suppose."

"Not that IOP's ratings mean much." Macek stared pointedly at K11, who caught the glare and put her hands on her hips defensively.

"My self-modifications work just fine," the doll replied petulantly. "I don't need you judging me."

"Right…"

"Anyway…" CBJ-MS reached for her bag and unzippered it, prizing a flat, wrapped object from it and holding it out to StG. "Here you are."

Marabou. StG recognized the image on the packaging. "Chocolate?"

"Swedish, yes. Lieutenant Salmela is Finnish, he knows some people in Europe who can get me the good stuff. I figured you might want a pick-me-up or something." CBJ-MS smiled.

"Yeah, since she's got her clothes off," K11 sniggered. StG suddenly remembered – she had removed her jacket and shirt so the repair device could get to her arm without impediment. Both articles of clothing had a big hole burned through them, which K11 noted as she held up the navy blue jacket to inspect. "Huh, guess you'll be requisitioning a new coat…"

"Didn't I say to quit it?"

"Thank you," said StG, setting the chocolate on the nearby stand with her burnt clothes. "I… appreciate it."

"How much longer are you here for?" Z-62 spoke up.

"Just a few minutes more," Macek replied for StG. The machine had finished fabricating the replacement flesh and was gently applying the new skin where the chunk was missing. From there, the automated repair systems in StG's body started taking over – such systems would patch small cuts and fix minor impact wounds, and they'd help integrate the new skin as well. After a moment, the new flesh started taking to the old, and StG felt it begin to connect.

"How much time until lunch break's over?" CBJ-MS asked.

Z-62 checked her timepiece. "Half an hour."

"Enough time, then. Miss het på gröten over here already had her fill." Type 56-1 grinned unabashedly as CBJ-MS jerked a thumb in reference to her. "We'll head down to requisitions with you to fetch the new coat and shirt."

"I'll go alone," StG said automatically.

"Don't be such a loner," K11 teased. "I've been meaning to head down there anyhow."

"Me too," Z-62 said.

Type 56-1 winked at StG. "Yeah, we all know why. Some handsome lieutenant working the BX, eh?"

"Hey, that's not true!"

"Mm-hm, right. First Lieutenant Volya Alexievich, the youngest officer on base…"

"Stop that!" Z-62 blushed and jabbed a finger at Type 56-1. "I respect him."

"It's not the only thing you respect," K11 muttered. CBJ-MS gained a sudden look of anger at that comment and whipped around.

"Now don't you say–"

"All done!" Macek exclaimed, and StG looked to see that her arm was totally patched, looking good as new. Distracted, CBJ-MS and the other dolls all turned back to watch StG as she climbed out of the station and walked to the stand, putting on her shirt and then the coat. Despite the poor condition of both articles of clothing, StG still made an effort to perfect her appearance, buttoning both and smoothing out any wrinkles.

"Thank you," StG said, turning to face the technician. Macek nodded.

"Anytime. Now get out so I can handle the next one."

There was a small group of dolls milling about in the hallway that looked up as Chrysanthemum exited. Macek stuck her head out the door and glanced at a tablet before shouting "Number 28!"

M60 limped past StG into the repair bay, the other waiting dolls watching on with a jealous stare.

"We'll head to requisitions to get the clothes, and then by then it'll probably be time to get back to work." Even when she wasn't in the field, CBJ-MS was intent on developing a plan of action. "We can brief StG on what's happened while she was in the repair bay."

"It was just a few hours," the German heard herself protesting. "I doubt too much has occurred."

"Well, you'd be surprised," Z-62 cut in. Following CBJ's lead, they started down the hallway. "Kerr seems pretty intent on getting this whole place back together. They've already cleared out the doll corpses and most of the debris during cleanup, and a few teams are also working on sweeping the old Soviet tunnels for potential Sangvis stragglers and properly mapping out the whole system."

"And we're on patrol…"

"Yes, any echelon not occupied has to take one of the patrol shifts."

"Do we know when we're launching an offensive?" K11 asked.

"Sometime soon, I expect," CBJ-MS replied. The Swede pushed her hair back over her shoulders, glancing sideways to make sure everyone was keeping up. "Nobody really wants to wait for another raid. And some of us lost friends."

"Or neural cloud backups," Type 56-1 said gloomily.

"Hey now, we know it wasn't any of us. Type 81 said the full list would be released sometime today."

StG suddenly felt worried. She had yet to find out if hers had been one of the backups stolen by Gestalt. It was easy to pity the dolls that had lost theirs – the possibility of permanent erasure, their memories lost to nothingness forever. For dolls, it was quite literally a fate worse than death – that, at least, they could come back from. But if any of the dolls who had lost their backup were killed by Sangvis, they were not likely to ever return. No android really understood the concept, not since everyone had grown used to life of indefinite length. StG couldn't fathom how humans could live with their own mortality.

The repair bay was part of the IOP sector of the base, and as Chrysanthemum exited the hallway they came out on the edge of the IOP factory floor. It was much more active than usual since Kerr had mandated replacement of as many destroyed dolls as she could, not to mention their dummy links. It was loud and smelled strongly of coolant and plastic, small clumps of technicians moving back and forth between construction bays and the administrative sector. Overhead, a complex conveyor belt system composing the component delivery network ferried parts to the actual pods in which doll construction took place, as well as tubes of coolant and material for the synthetic skin fabricators linked to each pod. It was a perfectly tuned orchestra of parts and mechanics, engineering by IOP to be the best way of managing large-scale doll construction of the sort Griffin needed.

They left the construction area and entered the elevator that would take them up to the rest of the base. When they stepped out into the atrium, StG saw that it had been positively flooded with dolls since she had last passed through. Dolls hurried to their next assigned task as Griffin's uniformed human regulars moved about in squads, some of them even going with dolls to complete whatever their objective was. It was clear that the Commander was intent on putting as much of the base to use as she could, ensuring that no one was idle in the leadup to the inevitable next confrontation with Sangvis.

As always, StG felt awed by the sheer size and magnificence of the atrium. It was not exactly like the rest of the Soviet base, the granite floor and chandeliers lending it a sense of aristocracy and prestige completely unlike the rough-hewn nature of its mountain locale. It felt even larger with all the personnel crowded inside it, and only when CBJ-MS pulled on her sleeve did StG remember she was going somewhere.

"Come with me for a moment, we've got to talk to Makarov. I just saw her over there…"

StG and the rest of Chrysanthemum followed CBJ-MS as they cut through the crowds, muttering "excuse me" on repeat and edging past anyone who wouldn't move in time. Makarov was clearly visible with her tall blue hat, strutting along with Welrod Mk II. "Makarov!"

"Oh, CBJ-MS," the Russian said, turning around. Welrod had her arms crossed, eyeing StG as the other two started conversing. "You saw my message?"

"Yeah. I was going to send something back, but I saw you and Welrod and figured I'd just talk to you now. When's the briefing going to be?"

"Not right now, Serdyukov's still finishing up the intelligence report and I've got to run through it with Kerr first. Welrod's going to be in the field on it, but I'm coordinating from HQ. Rose and Grizzly Team are the two echelons going with you on this one and Cedar Four-Eight is attached for artillery support."

"I expect it'll be like any op where we cover for special forces…"

Makarov shook her head. "Not quite, there'll be some differences. I'll tell you about it during the briefing. Keep an eye on your messages, I'll let you know when it'll be."

"Make sure all the gear's squared away now," Welrod added. "Logistics is going to be backlogged to hell soon, if it isn't already."

"We're headed down to requisitions now, actually. I'll get it finished then."

"Right. I'll see you later, then."

"Aye." CBJ-MS and Makarov exchanged nods before they split, the former leading her echelons towards the logistics hallway.

"So we are being deployed as part of something separate," K11 observed.

"I'll talk to you about it later."

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

Z-62 huffed. "Can't you say anything else…"

Requisitions was incorporated into the greater logistics wing of the base, which housed accessible stores of ammunition, food, and munitions as well as clothing. Dolls were usually clothed upon leaving the construction bay, but to get surplus or replacement clothes one had to ask the requisitions officer, and they would be brought up from storage. StG had already needed to visit requisitions after a few of her past deployments and knew what to do.

Further down the hallway, the door to the large freight elevator opened and a small motorized cart emerged, Mosin-Nagant at the wheel. StG watched her steer the vehicle down the wide hallway and come to a halt as Type 56-1 raised a hand and waved energetically.

"Hey Mosin!"

"Привет," the Russian said in response. "What're you doing here, 56?"

"We're on break and Sturmgewehr needs a new coat and shirt, so we came to requisitions. I guess you've been working overtime, huh?"

"Yeah, Salmela has me and the others moving supplies up and down all the time. We've gotta do it in bulk, leaves the automated system free for other needs." Mosin-Nagant shrugged and took the wheel of the cart again, letting off the brake and carefully doing an about turn so she was going in the same direction as Chrysanthemum. "I'll head down with you in case Salmela or one of the other helpers isn't in to handle your request."

When they got to the office, Mosin-Nagant waved them through the door as she continued down the hallway. "I'm heading around back to offload these crates, I'll join you inside."

Type 56-1 put her hands on her hips as she stepped inside. "Well, I'm glad to see she's keeping busy. Mosin's one of those people who really can't stand around and wait, if you get what I mean."

"Sure I do." Z-62 cast a glance at K11. "I figured she'd be out on patrol."

"Maybe she's one of the dolls who lost their backups," K11 speculated. "Kerr could be keeping her inside."

"That's not good, Carnation is one of our better teams." CBJ-MS raised an eyebrow and adopted a look of resigned expectancy. "Backups or not, we'll need all hands on deck for the coming offensive."

"You sound like Kerr."

The requisitions room was fairly small, a gated counter against the far right corner and a few rows of shelves on the left. Music played from a speaker on the counter, behind which AK-74u reclined, her feet kicked up and hands behind her head. The song from the radio struck a chord with StG – she had heard that singer's deep, low voice before when some of the other Soviet dolls played music, the steady, slow beat of the song quite recognizable.

Я вчера слишком поздно лег, сегодня рано встал,

Я вчера слишком поздно лег, я почти не спал.

"74!" Type 56-1 shouted. The Russian doll snapped her eyes open and swiveled around in the chair to face the other dolls, smiling broadly as she took her shoes down off the counter with the leisurely pace of the unworried.

"Hey there." Her eyes swept lethargically over the other dolls in the room before settling back on Type 56-1. "What can I do for you?"

"Requisitioning some clothes," StG spoke up, stepping past K11 to join Type 56-1 at the counter. AK-74u glanced at the hole in her jacket's arm.

"Right. Uh, what's your DWID?

"61," StG said, just as the door in the back of the small room opened and Mosin-Nagant burst inside, a crates piled up in her arms.

"Ah, sorry for the wait! I'll be over there in a second!"

The blonde doll staggered to the corner and dropped the crates, adjusting her ushanka and doing an about face. "What is it you– oh, AK-74… I thought you were off-shift?"

"I didn't feel like eating lunch with 9A, so I came back here early. I've got it handled, Mosin," AK-74u said from the counter, waving a hand. "You can offload the rest. Salmela said he'd be back in ten minutes."

The brief look of dejection on Mosin-Nagant's face was quickly replaced with an optimistic grin. "I'll get right on it, then. There's a few crates of supplies still down in storage that need to be brought up anyway."

She rushed back out the door. AK-74u turned back to StG, sighing before she sat up in the chair and went to the computer terminal on the desk behind the counter. "Right. DWID 61, you said? Uniform." The terminal was an old Soviet one, repurposed during the renovations that had taken place a couple years back. AK-74u clacked away, waiting a moment for the system to buffer before she punched in a final command and the wall behind her began to rattle.

"Hey, does the Lieutenant want these cartridges with the Kalashnikovs for the regulars, or with the rest of the ammo?" Mosin-Nagant paused as she came inside, another big crate between her arms. AK-74u shrugged.

"Put them with the Kalashnikovs, I guess. Anything surplus we can move back over with the rest of the ammo dump." AK-74u turned back to the other dolls. "The automated system can take a minute to bring it up," she explained to StG. "Salmela keeps lobbying for an overhaul, but it's not really a priority at the moment."

"You said he's getting back soon? I've gotta get my echelon's equipment figured out for the upcoming battle." CBJ-MS crossed her arms, and K11 whispered something about a 'team leader look' to Type 56-1.

"Get in line," AK-74u replied. "Virtually every echelon's coming in and saying the same thing. You got a list?"

"Well, the standard stuff."

"I'll let him know and he'll add you."

"Maybe you don't understand," CBJ-MS said, adding an edge to her voice. "We're not just stuck on containment duty for this upcoming op. We're on the escort team for Hunter. So I think we deserve priority over everyone else in this case, wouldn't you?"

AK-74u stared at CBJ-MS with a passive expression before nodding, becoming more serious. "I'll see to it. There's been quite a few dolls in today asking the same thing a little less politely, so I'm inclined to tell anyone the same thing."

The clattering at the door stopped, and the doll turned around to open it. A small elevator hung in the shaft leading down to the logistics warehouse, in which an automated system had retrieved StG's replacement uniform from one of the shelves and placed it on the elevator. AK-74u reached inside and pulled out the clothing, inspecting it briefly before handing it to StG.

"Thanks," the doll said.

"Of course. That's the only spare uniform we've got, so make sure it doesn't get damaged before we can order another one."

StG studied the folded clothing. It was of the typical precision of IOP's uniform producer, unmarked except for the IOP and Griffin logos. It smelled like polymer and detergent, the brass only slightly tarnished from its time in storage.

"Very nice," K11 said. "Guys dig a chick in uniform."

"Why are you saying that?!" Type 56-1 looked at K11 in horror. "How do you even know that?"

"Well, chicks dig a guy in uniform, so it follows that it'd go the other way around, right?"

"No! And stop saying chicks!"

"Oh, would you two stop it?" CBJ-MS put a hand on K11's shoulder. "Be quiet." K11 seemed to bite back a witty reply. Their team leader made an exaggerated expression of vexation before smiling at StG. "Right. Let's get out of here, then. Sturmgewehr can change in the dorm, then it's back to the grindstone."

As they made to leave, Z-62 turned around. "Hey, 74?"

"What's up?"

"Is the Junior Lieutenant in today?"

AK-74u turned around from where she was messing with the speaker. "Volya? He took some supplies down to the barracks a while ago, hasn't returned."

"Oh," Z-62 said, doing her best to hide her dejection.

As they walked along the hallway, StG stared down at her uniform. Make sure it doesn't get damaged.

If the last combat engagement was anything to go by, Sturmgewehr doubted the uniform would get out of the next one alive.